Today is the 19th anniversary of Dad’s death. This poem is from an experience of visiting the graves of Mom and Dad last June.
The Clearing
I drove a rental car into the familiar cemetery
Rain and memory gently smearing the windshield
The curved maple that shaded the graves of
Mom and Dad had been cut down
Even the stump pulled from the dark Indiana soil
That old tree like an adopted sibling
Protected them from bitter winds and summer drought
Bending toward their memory with each visit
Revealing spring buds and a sparrow’s birth
The branches stood my stead
That sheltered my parents
As I become my past
The roots deep and sure
An unexpected emptiness in the clearing filled me
Sawdust illusions swept away
Leaving this child’s vulnerability on spring grass
Still a son of genuine loss
And love under raindrops
Broken But Not Divided 
Thank you for sharing tenderness and vulnerability.
oh, the shock of seeing that empty spot where the tree “stood in your stead”–compounding the sense of loss–tearing open the thinly scarred place where grief had been tucked away—Why in the world? Who would do that?
Find it in your memory and hold onto that–leaf rustle and birdsong, sheltering shade–and find peace, my friend. A
Beautiful!
the poem grants a peaceful reflection of “love under raindrops”. Thanking God for “roots deep and sure” and looking forward to the time of reunion when we too will transition to fields of perpetual spring grass with uncut trees. . glorious
So moving — “ as I became my past” what a provocative phrase
Sent from my iPhone
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